Your Worst Fear
by Iridescent Reflection
Summary: Jack Frost was lured into Pitch's lair by the echo of a voice. He only meant for a quick investigation, but something held him back. Looks like he won't be making it back to help Easter after all. Warning: Noncon -Christmas present for a friend-


Jack had followed the familiar echo of a voice over the town of Burgess, and down a hole located in the middle of the forest, covered by the wooden frame of a bed. Jack had thought little of the consequences of locating the source of the voice. He had decided it would be quick and simple, with plenty of time to spare in returning to the Guardians before the Easter plan was launched.

Diving down into the hole with the Baby-Tooth, Jack found himself in a vast cavern underground. Metal cages hung suspended in the rocky ceiling, and while finding the captured subjects of the Tooth Fairy was a bonus, Jack immediately went to seek out the voice.

As he looked through the collection of tooth containers, he failed to notice the black tendrils of sand creeping towards him.

The inattentive ice spirit gave a yelp of surprise as his waist was grabbed and he was yanked away from his findings. His staff clattered to the floor as his wrists were roughly snatched, his arms stretched from his body.

Jack struggled to escape the iron grip of the black sand as he realized his captor could be none other than Pitch Black. His guess was proven correct as his body was forced to turn and meet eye-level with the Nightmare King himself. He met the amused gaze of the yellow eyed man, his heart dropped to his stomach as he became more aware of the grievous mistake he had committed; a mistake that was quickly worsening by the second was now impossible to escape.

"What have we here?" the accented voice drawled lazily. "Jack Frost? I think you've been hanging around those Guardians too much to be welcomed here. Have you accepted their offer, then?" The black tendrils of sand crept further along his arms, reaching his shoulders and curling around the joint.

"I didn't accept their offer, and I don't plan on ever joining them! I just want my memories back!" Jack retorted, struggling futilely as the sensation of the sand branches crawling on his skin. He found the feeling all too similar to the sensation one might feel should an army of spiders choose to scurry along their arm.

The Nightmare King tutted mockingly, his brow raising as though this were news to him. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't quite believe you myself, boy. No matter the case, you broke into my home. I'm going to punish you, and while I'm at it, I'll have to debate between sending you back broken or detaining you a while longer. Just until the Guardians fall, that is."

Jack gritted his teeth in frustration. No matter what Pitch chose, Jack would be too late to help his allies in the Easter event. He should have listened to the Baby Tooth, who, he realized, was nowhere in sight. Did it flee? Or perhaps it was captured? Jack found his thoughts quickly derailing as a dark branch of sand crept along the lining of his hoodie.

"What are they doing?" Jack demanded, trying to shake them off. By now, he was well aware nothing would shake them loose, but there was nothing stopping him from wanting to try. He gave an indignant cry as the sand trailed under the collar of his hoodie, slipping down his torso slowly. Jack suddenly felt contaminated as they scratched along his skin hidden below the purple hoodie.

Meanwhile, Pitch watched Jack with a predatory look. All of it was simply too good for him; the helpless cries, the futile struggle, and soon, the boy would be too worn out from his squirming to fight back. His fantasies were briefly interrupted when the winter brat demanded his focus.

"Pitch!" he shouted, looking extremely uncomfortable, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and brow lowered angrily. "This… this is disgusting! Stop them!"

The Nightmare King chuckled and stepped forward, halting the movement of the sand limbs in an effort to allow the boy false comfort. Once they had stopped moving Jack didn't appear any less uncomfortable. That could be from the fact that Pitch felt no need to extend the illusion of comfort by removing them from under his sweatshirt.

"Well?"

Yellow eyes blinked innocently, if that were possible to accomplish considering their owner.

"'Well,' what?"

"Aren't you going to get them out from under…?" Jack gestured loosely with his wrist.

Pitch acted as though he was slowly catching on.

"Oh? You mean from under your shirt?"

"That's the idea, yeah." Jack's face was slightly flushed, he was clearly unhappy with the turn of events.

As though he were putting honest effort into the decision, Pitch stroked his pointed chin with his crooked fingers in mock-contemplation.

"I could do that, I suppose," he drawled on, his eyes rolling up to gaze at the vast cavern ceiling. "But that would mean you would go without punishment."

This time it was Jack's turn to catch on.

"What's my punishment?" he asked hesitantly, getting vague ideas based on his current position. He could only hope the worst of his imagination wouldn't be the result.

"Your punishment?" Pitch repeated, raising his tone to sound as though he had been caught off guard. "Why, I'm letting you choose, of course. What would you like? Or rather, what does your fear say?" His tone had dropped to a low growl, his lips curving into a wicked grin to reveal his pointed teeth.

Jack's blood ran cold(er) as he realized the implication.

Pitch, being able to sense fear, would be basing his punishment off of what Jack was most afraid of.

Automatically, as Pitch had planned, Jack's mind began to race with the possibilities that his captor was capable of.

Everything in the area set Jack's imagination running off at full speed.

He could be locked in the cages to starve, or suspended by just his arms or his legs. He could be beaten against the rocky walls until he saw stars. It was also entirely possible for Pitch to leave him as he was, ensnared and immobilized by the black sand tendrils.

But while he was immobilized and held vulnerable to the Man of Fear, what could be done to him then?

The glint of teeth from the amused Nightmare King caught his attention. All the while, Pitch had been reading his fear, had been gathering ideas. He quite liked the new stream of thoughts that flooded Jack's mind as he caught sight of his teeth.

The shark-like teeth could tear into his body. They could easily rip his flesh off the bone, or if he wanted, kill him by going for the throat. But Jack wasn't so worried about death. Pitch had said punishment, and either detainment, or returned-in-pieces. Not that those were that much better than death.

Jack remembered the sand that held him in place and had crawled beneath his clothing. He shuddered as the worst ideas seeped into his mind. The thought of the thick sandy limbs twisting and curling over his body, holding him in position as they defiled his body caused his heart to accelerate and his breathing rate to increase. As he realized that was exactly what Pitch had been waiting for him to conclude to, he instantly tried to force the thoughts from his mind.

Pitch read fear as quickly as it could cross Jack's mind. He already knew exactly what he was going to be doing to the ice elf caught in his lair.

"What a fantastic idea, Jack," Pitch informed him, "I think you come up with some interesting ideas based on your fear and imagination. You already know what will happen. Isn't that better for you?" Pitch drew nearer. The black sand arms began their movement once more, crawling gently below Jack's sweatshirt.

Jack shook his head frantically, his lower lip quivering as he was reduced to pleading.

"No, no, no! Please, don't do this! Don't do this!"

Pitch took a final step as he came toe to toe with Jack, looking down his long nose to the blue eyed boy. It was simply too delicious to watch the fear swim in his eyes, to have it coating his words, and circuit through his veins as he trembled. Large dark hands were planted firmly on the shoulders of his prisoner, startling him. He leaned in closely, his nose coming close to bumping against Jack's face. Any other time, it would be the approach of a lover's, but here, it was the intimate promise to do harm.

Jack's pleading had stopped as he realized he was being tuned out. The yellow eyes scanned his form appreciatively. The winter spirit had little reaction time to give as Pitch's hands gripped the cloth, nails digging in, before he gave a great tug and tore his hoodie in twain. Jack hadn't realized he had given a gasp to accompany the soft sigh of fabric ripping.

With the article of clothing removed, Jack's upper body was laid bare before Pitch. Wrapped in the exploring sand branches, Pitch could only give a chuckle.

"You have no idea how much I fancy this sight," he commented, his sharp nails ghosting over the pale skin, leaving the faintest of scratches. Gooseflesh arose at his touch, and surprisingly, the Guardian-in-Denial held himself perfectly still. When he lifted his wandering hands he heard the sharp inhale the white haired male stole.

"Take a picture," he spat. "It'll last longer."

"I could very well do that, couldn't I? But alas, I have no camera. I will be remembering this through a much different method though." He flashed his sharp teeth, which was the only warning Jack was given before the Fear King swooped down and took hold of the flesh on his shoulder.

He gave a sharp cry and resisted struggling. He was trapped in the iron grip of Pitch's jaw. Any movement would surely rip his skin further. Blood mixed with saliva dribbled down his arm, making him shudder in disgust. He bit his lip as he felt the cold, slimy tongue circling the area it made contact with. Pitch tasted him; Pitch's idea of making memories was through sampling.

Finally, the jaw loosened up and Pitch pulled away, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his cloak. He had a few smears of Jack's blood crossing his chin and cheeks. Jack had a hard time keeping a look of defiance on his face at the sight of the man licking his lips.

As he expected, Pitch went in for a few more bites. A few around his neck; never pressing hard enough to cut off his air supply, but firm enough to show how easily it would be. A few others were placed on his arms and one more on the other shoulder. Jack held as still as possible no matter where Pitch wrapped his teeth.

Teasingly, Pitch had gently lapped at the wounds he had made, taking pleasure in watching the young spirit shudder in distaste. Pitch found himself quickly growing bored of this activity and almost worried the other would lose fear should he remain on one activity too long.

Placing his hands at the other's bony hips, he used his nails to toy with the waistband of his brown pants. He felt Jack stiffen in response, his breathing rate increased dramatically. This was the reaction Pitch enjoyed most: The anxiety for what was about to happen.

"Don't do this," Jack whispered. "Lock me in the cages. Beat me. Cut me. Humiliate me for the Guardians to see. Just not this."

Yellow eyes met blue. Pitch tsked lightly as though scolding a child.

"Don't you see, Frost? No matter what I choose to do, nothing will humiliate you more than this. I can lock you in the cages, or beat you, or cut you after. No matter what, I'll leave you for the Guardians to see. Do you know what they'll see?" Jack didn't answer. His hope had been dashed once more. Bargaining was futile.

"They'll see the broken spirit of a fool. You were lured here, I took your time, and I will take your pride. They will know once they come looking for you, what became of the naïve winter imp who fell into my trap. And when they see this shell of you, they'll spit. They'll realize you aren't worth the efforts of being a Guardian. They won't believe in you."

As though Pitch had physically harmed him with his words, Jack slumped in the grip of the black tendrils' hold. Pitch had used his fear to destroy his hope of acceptance among his new friends, and believers he might never have.

It took but a simple snap of his fingers for the sand holding the boy up to coil away and allow the forlorn spirit to collapse to his knees. Jack sat at his feet, looking towards the floor as though it held answers. He made no attempt of escape as he knew there was no hope of a successful one.

Pitch took a deep breath, smelling the fear, the hopelessness, and the submissiveness of his prisoner. He could feel his arousal quickly growing from a combination of the fear radiating off of the Winter Prince, as well as the sight of him covered in his markings. His current appearance was nearly perfection itself, Pitch would swear. There was a final article of clothing to be removed before they accomplished this state of flawlessness, however.

The Nightmare King knelt down, reaching out and gripping the pale faced boy under his chin and making their eyes meet. Pitch couldn't help but give a slight groan at the hopelessness held in Jack's blue eyes. The sound made his victim flinch, but otherwise, he held no fight in him. The older male felt a strong wave of possessiveness wash over him, and he gave in and claimed the weak Guardian's lips to his own. Naturally the other refused to reciprocate, and it felt much like giving a drowned man CPR, but Pitch took it as a way to transition things.

With the ice elf connected to him via mouth, Pitch shifted his weight and pushed himself on top of the shirtless boy. This gave Jack a fright, causing him to startle and attempt to scrabble back. Unfortunately for him, Pitch's hold on his face kept him where he was. Jack bit down on the cold lips that claimed. He later realized that laying back and accepting his fate would have been the better choice.

Having been bitten, Pitch pulled away. He thumbed away the blood collecting on his lip. It was a minor wound that could easily be ignored. It was also the perfect reason for another punishment. As he looked down at the white haired boy with a furrowed brow in annoyance, he had little ideas for what could be worse than what he was intending to do. Perhaps all there was to be done was roughing him up a bit more.

Pitch backhanded Jack. He slapped him, scratched him, he shook him like a rag doll. It was all very brief, but it got his point across. He hadn't seen anything yet.

At this point Pitch had a very stiff member hidden beneath his cloak. Whether or not Jack knew by now was beyond his care. He would know soon enough, regardless.

After a thorough shaking, Pitch laid Jack's trembling body to the rocky floor of the cavern. Jack made little effort to move as he was rather dizzy. He soon became aware that his captor had moved to straddle his hips, his weight sinking onto his lower abdomen. It was entirely awkward to have the larger man on top of him, but there was nothing Jack could do.

"Now, you have a choice, boy," Pitch sneered. "This will be your final choice, so choose wisely." He waited for a response, to which Jack just nodded. It was enough for him. He parted the folds of his dark cloak, pulling down his pants just enough to reveal to his frightened victim his arousal. Bright blue eyes widened in shock; his mouth parted ever so slightly in terror to allow room for his swollen bottom lip to quiver.

"My choice?" he whispered weakly, his face going paler as he eyed the large grey member in horror.

"Yes, your choice." His own hands kept busy as he stroked the soft white hair. He couldn't wait to entwine his fingers in the silk strands as he forced Jack's head to remain close to his pelvis.

"What are they?"

"You can either take this down your throat, which will provide the only lubrication you're going to get, or I can take you dry. I promise it will hurt exponentially more. I don't care what you choose, personally. You'll be screaming in the end no matter what."

Jack swallowed audibly, something he would also be doing once he got his hot mouth around Pitch's cock.

"I . . . I'll take it," he mumbled hesitantly, his voice cracking at the end. "How do I . . . ?"

With that, Pitch swung his leg over Jack's body, pulling the boy up with him as he crawled out of his lap.

"You can lean over, wrap your lips around it, and go from there, if you like," he suggested, adjusting his cloak again.

Jack looked forlornly at the grey erection. He wished this wasn't happening more than anything. He had nothing to look forward to even if he did this. With or without making it more difficult for himself, the same result would become of him; he would be a shadow of himself, nothing more than a broken soul in an equally broken body. The worst part would be, as an immortal, he would remain like this forever.

And for what? A tube of memories locked in his human teeth?

Was it still worth it as it was coming down to this?

"Jack? I'm waiting," the dark voice called to him, bringing him back to his present state of affairs.

Inhaling through his nose, Jack leaned forward from his sitting position. He shifted to lie on his stomach and got as close as he dared to the dripping cock of his enemy's. His hesitation caused impatience within Pitch, and Jack suddenly found himself being pulled forward and the cock intruding roughly into his mouth.

He choked as he was pulled close. He tried to pull away. He didn't dare try to bite down though. He knew there were many more ways he could be punished should he try to cause harm. He did his best to keep his teeth away from the hot flesh in his mouth, though it was difficult as he instinctively thrashed as he choked.

Pitch held him there nonetheless. He wasn't worried. The feeling of warmth around his shaft was bliss. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and probably something he wouldn't get again should he decide to return Jack his freedom. At this point, it was debatable if he wanted to do that. The humiliation at Jack's expense, versus a lifetime of pleasure from a personal slave was really quite the decision. He would decide later, when this was done.

"Remember, boy. Coat it well if you want things a little easier on you."

Jack could only cough in response. Regardless, Pitch felt the other quickly lap at his cock, trying to coat it with more saliva. He could only groan and begin to thrust his hips, trying to achieve more warmth for the rest of his length. The choking sounds being emitted from the boy couldn't have been more enthralling for him to hear.

Just as he had wanted, he wrapped his long fingers in the white hair, clutching it and adding pressure to keep Jack's head down.

"Breathe through your nose. I'm not letting you go until I think you've done enough."

Jack felt the large cock hit the back of his throat. He wished it would stop there, but he soon found himself loosening the muscles in his convulsing throat to allow it further down. Pitch was pressing on his head, making it so it would have to go down, or he would continue to choke.

Breathing became incredibly difficult as he felt the stiff organ slide down his throat. His attempts to swallow only further provoked Pitch to move his hips. Jack was doing his best to inhale enough oxygen through his nose, but as he was pressed up against the other man's lower stomach, he found it harder and harder to take in enough air supply.

Just as he felt he would black out –a blessing it would have been- he felt the fingers in his hair pull him off. He gagged as the cock filling his throat was quickly removed and pulled from his mouth. He took the chance to suck in as much air as he could. The bitter taste of the man's pre-come lingered on his tongue and the back of his throat. He took a moment between gasps to eye the saliva-coated penis of his captor. It looked to be enough. Or at least, he really hoped so.

'They'll come for me,' Jack thought desperately, despite Pitch's early words gnawing at the fear of their rejection. 'They have to.' Above him the Nightmare King laughed mirthlessly. Jack looked up to him to see his lips pulled back in an ugly sneer.

"They won't, and if they do, they'll just see what a failure you are as they look at your disgusting, defiled body." Jack then realized he had spoken aloud.

"No," he retorted, his voice strained. "They . . . They'll wonder where I went, and they'll . . ." he trailed off, uncertain of his own words and any possible outcome he could imagine.

"If anything, they'll come for the teeth assistants of that annoying pest. If they can ever find this location, that is." Pitch indicated to the cages above that housed the captured Baby Teeth. "I took the liberty of throwing in that stray you brought to me, if you were wondering. And now we have a full house to watch your tainting."

Jack had forgotten about them. They had been quiet, and he wondered if they were choosing to avert their eyes instead. He could only hope so. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be enough to drown out his cries, or Pitch's dark words.

There was nothing left for him. Here he was, lying at the body of their enemy sucking his cock. There was nothing left for him to do, or to say. Unless by some winter miracle, he was not getting out of here as pure as he had been.

"Just do it," he whispered, lowering his eyes as he braced himself. "Before the spit dries, please."

"That's the spirit," Pitch encouraged, tugging at the white hair to force him up to a kneeling position. He reached over and placed his fingers under the waistband of the tattered brown pants, pulling once and snapping the waist. The folds hung loosely at his legs, only held up by the binding at his legs.

With Jack exposed, Pitch found the boy entirely unaroused. This was for him alone. He had no responsibility, nor did he care if the boy received any pleasure in this. If he did, it was a bigger bonus to him.

"Stand up and position yourself over me," he barked. "You'll be doing all the work."

Jack flinched as though stung. Not only would he be losing his purity, but he would be the one removing it from himself. All he could do was accept his fate and try to make it end as soon as possible.

He stood on shaking legs that barely held his weight. He stepped forward to straddle his captor, crouching slightly, hovering over the erected cock that would penetrate him.

"Better hurry," Pitch interrupted. "The spit's drying, if you recall."

"I don't know how to put it in," Jack whispered fearfully. He could hardly meet the yellow eyes that taunted him for his fate. The Fear King gave a low chuckle. His own hand wrapped around his wet erection.

"I'll hold it in place, but you'll be placing yourself on it. How about that?"

"Fine."

Though he'd rather not be doing it at all, he had no choice now.

First he had to hold the folds of the remnants of his pants out of the way, and then he lowered himself slowly, each moment making him tense as he awaited the pain of penetration.

Finally, he felt the tip of the heated cock touch him. He shuddered and hesitated before beginning to press himself down.

It didn't even take the head of the cock to breach him for him to want death. He could only inhale and try to loosen up as he forced himself down further. He concentrated on the sole task of getting through the sharp pain of splitting himself open, ignoring the groans and words of encouragement from the Nightmare King.

It was a slow and painful process; inch by inch he lowered himself down. The rocking of hips on behalf of whom he'd be riding was no help at all. Jack's body quivered as he struggled through the pain, his thighs trembled from where they straddled the older man as they did everything they could to hold him up.

"You're doing so well, Jack," the man above him taunted, his hands keeping busy as he stroked various areas of the winter spirit. Jack would have given a shudder had he not already been quaking like a leaf in a blizzard. The hands that stroked through his hair, or down his sides, even caressing his hip, were barely registered as he focused on the task at hand. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you've done this before."

Jack's skin crawled at the idea of doing this more than once.

"But I do know better," Pitch continued, "because I know no one believes in you. You wouldn't be able to whore out your body in any case."

The white haired male gave something between a sob and gasp as the words hit him, coupled with sinking down the final few inches of the grey member he had sat himself on. Pitch couldn't find more delight in the fact that his words wear tearing at the boy's esteem, as well as the fact that he was buried to the hilt inside of his prisoner.

"Well done," he commended softly, allowing Jack some time to breathe. "Better get moving soon, though. The saliva will still dry."

The ice elf kept his head lowered as he panted through the exertion and burning pain. His blood pounded loudly in his ears, making it hard to hear what he was being told. His concentration was slipping as he willed his body to give in and shut down. He was broken from his stupor as he felt Pitch roll his hips roughly, reminding Jack of the task at hand.

He had felt himself rip to accommodate the large intrusion in his backside. He knew he was bleeding, and it would be used as lubricant to allow movement. Reluctantly he picked his body up, feeling the sick slide of Pitch's cock dragging against his torn hole. He dropped himself back down once he felt he had raised himself high enough. It was difficult to convince himself to do so, but he had to pick up a rhythm. There came a gradual pace of Jack lifting his body up and dropping it back down. Pitch occasionally helped him when he was moving upwards, and he definitely liked meeting him back down. When Jack let his weight collapse each fall, Pitch would meet him with a thrust. It was all very slow going, Jack thought it would never end. Apparently neither did Pitch, because he eventually decided he would be in charge of the moving.

While Jack had mesmerized himself into the pattern of lifting and falling, he was torn from the state of half-consciousness when he felt Pitch roughly grab him in mid-rise. He awoke from his trance, struggling against the grip of his captor. He only succeeded in hurting himself and earning a slap from Pitch. The Nightmare King waited for him to stop squirming before laying him down, the both of them still connected.

As Jack looked up at the dark man hovering above him, he viewed it as though he were watching out of body. He could see Pitch splitting the middle of his pants still tied around his legs so he would be able to work between Jack's thighs. Once they were individually lying at either side of the man, he picked them up and placed them over his broad shoulders.

Pitch leered down at him from his position on the floor, watching his facial expressions as he took control, as he pushed himself harder and faster into his worn body. Jack tried to close his eyes, to try and close out the image that would forever be burned into his retinas; the sight of Pitch over him, dominating him was not something he wanted to see every time he blinked.

Jack made an attempt to shut his mind out from everything, but each time he managed to think of something else, there would be a sharp pain that would bring him back. Pitch would sink his nails into his hips, creating puncture wounds. Or he would bite down on his neck or shoulder and draw blood. Sometimes he was thrusting hard enough to knock Jack's head against the ground. Either way, Jack was never able to shut his mind out of reality for long.

"You know," Pitch muttered between grunts of exertion. "This almost isn't really punishment if you aren't doing anything but laying back and taking it." Never mind the fact that regardless of doing nothing, he was still not enjoying it. Pitch wanted more from this, and he would make it so Jack Frost was broken beyond repair. This, he imagined, would only scar him.

The winter spirit only cast him a glance of disbelief with a little defiance mixed in. That's what Pitch really liked. Seeing some fighting spirit suffocated under all the pain and fear only served to enthrall him further.

"No ideas? No input? How dull." The Nightmare King seethed mockingly, pulling out and rolling Jack onto his side. He straddled his lower leg and held the other over his shoulder and he pushed back in and started up the pace again. At this point, Jack's body was entirely limp, having long given in to the punishment. Pitch wanted to get that small spark of defiance up again, just so he could snuff it out. He'd have to hurry though, as he was getting rather close to completion.

"You know that thing you came here for?" he began, murmuring softly, watching for a reaction. All he received was a grunt of acknowledgment. "I still have it, you know. I could give it to you once I throw your body back to the Guardians." Another grunt of acknowledgment, though he thought he saw something flicker in the blue eyes of the young man. "Or I could toss it. I could hide it from you. Maybe I feel you haven't done enough for me, and so I could dispose of the item you came looking for."

"What use are my memories to you? This isn't enough?"

"No. I can never have enough, do you understand?" Pitch hissed menacingly, resorting to shallow thrusts as he reached his peak. He rolled his hips as he rode out his orgasm, feeling his seed practically explode out of his immersed member.

Jack gave a hoarse cry as he felt the warmth flood his sensitive insides. As the man above him continued to thrust he felt sickened as he heard the squelching sounds of the come spilling out around the intrusion. Jack's mind blanked as he succumbed to the wave of disgust that threatened to smother him, his body fell limp as Pitch pulled away, and discarded his body as one would discard trash.

_Filthy, filthy, filthy,_ his mind whispered to him. Pitch voiced his thoughts with a sneer, looking down at the soiled body of the winter spirit. He was mouthing something else. Something Jack had to concentrate on.

"Are you ready for the real thing, Jack?" he finally comprehended.

Jack awoke with a jolt, feeling the blanket of black sand lift itself from his body. Above him, Pitch gave a wry smile, teeth flashing, yellow eyes glinting.

"The real thing?" he asked, checking himself over. Fully clothed, not a mark on him; it had never happened.

"Yes, Jack. I told you I would let you choose, and now you've shown me exactly what to do. I must thank you for that. The nightmare was delicious, but the real thing will be fantastic."


End file.
